What do you do when I am not here? This is the question I put to Daisy as she jumps up around my legs. In order to get an answer, I consider setting up a camera in the corner of the kitchen. As soon as I think this, however, I regret it. It wouldn’t be right to put Daisy under such a sustained gaze. Actually, I say, don’t answer! You ought just to do the things you do when no one is looking. Otherwise, what have you become? Another image? Another video? A dog? Daisy says nothing. This is because it is not possible for Daisy to say anything without changing what it is. I understand this. I accept it. I ruffle the long fur on top of her head. We are, it seems, talking from the same place. But then I notice my reflection buried deep inside the darkness of Daisy’s eyes. She is watching me. I feel myself departing. This, I understand, is her answer.